


Devotion

by OptimalSagacity



Series: Extemporaneous [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Forgive Me, Horny Cybertronians, I'm Bad At Summaries, M/M, Mpreg, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Soundwave is wild, Spark Merging, Sparkling on the way, Sparks, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Work In Progress, post-wartime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 08:35:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8005906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OptimalSagacity/pseuds/OptimalSagacity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soundwave is carrying. Starscream is aware that the war needs to end. Peace talks are occurring between Autobots, and Decepticons; the end goal is to revive Cybertron, even if it is a task seemingly impossible. Lord Starscream has his servos full.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Devotion

**Author's Note:**

> Picks up from where 'Consequential Beginnings' left off.

There was no hope for the Soundwave. The red doctor’s spark would snuff out, and expire before he gave up on tracking the evasive Communications Officer down for his pre-scheduled appointments. There was little he could do when he caught the sound of Knock Out’s pedes against the floors of the Nemesis, and EM field blaring like a neon beacon. The spy would narrow his optics. His vents would hiss he would make a move to avoid, to move out, to do almost _anything_ to escape another session where the Aston Martin’s digits prodded around his over-sensitized frame. He was tired of all of the technicalities—could a mech not have a megacycle to himself? It was apparently too much to ask at any rate, because the clack of pedes was becoming louder. It was condemnation to the medical bay for megacycles under the bright lights, along with caustic concoctions and new nutritional drinks shoved at him. No, Soundwave decided, he would not be easy today. The telepath stepped to the side, moving out and around the consoles, making sure to avoid—

_Clunk._

Primus, why? Of course he had bumped his distended abdominal plating against one of the consoles—it’s not as if he should have had a bit more coordination, working solar cycle after solar cycle weaving around the same slagging machinery (that should have undoubtedly been familiar to him by now). Soundwave glared at the offending projection, and pressed a servo to his midsection which had swelled like a ripe melon, the dark primary armor giving way to the softer protoform expanding underneath. The spy wondered if other carriers in the past had experienced as much trouble with maneuvering as he did. It severely impaired his equilibrium. It seemed as if only yesterday his abdominal region sported only a bump. At that time, it had been noticeable, and but not to this extent (and he had liked it that way—Primus save him from the attention his torso brought him). It was strange not being able to see his pedes any longer, and instead having a continual optic-full of his warped frame. There was a small nudge underneath the palm of his servo. He cooed softly at the little flutter that followed it.

“Officer Soundwave,” his torturer spoke, the melodic voice a serenade that spurred the deputy to move more quickly. It was Unicron disguised in the shape of a curvy, crimson health specialist—Soundwave knew the secret behind their medic’s charade! He carefully shuffled around the console, not sure if Knock Out had caught sight of him or not. “You are **late** for your appointment. I know you’re in here somewhere.”

 _Spare me this one solar cycle, please_ , the telepath thought, processor scrambling on varying methods of evasion that would work while gravid with sparkling. He was well aware that his chances of outrunning the doctor, even if he really tried, were bleak. The assassin considered that he might as well save his dignity as a carrier, leaving that scene to the imagination, and avoid bringing it any further into the forefront of his processor. He could see himself now, fans working overtime, steps sporadic, and painfully uncontrolled—he’d probably end up sprawled halfway down the hallway, fueling the eradicon’s gossip for orbital cycles to come. The little sparkling made itself known by clanging against the side of the carrying chamber, gaining an undignified ‘chirr’ from Soundwave as he looked down at the obnoxious swell once more. His progeny had one Pit of a kick…

The footsteps stopped. So did Soundwave’s spark.

That was until there was a shuffle directly behind him. The Communications Officer whirled around, and came face to face with Unicron’s dutiful pawn. _Inevitable_ was the word that echoed in his processor. There was a smirk on the medic’s pearly white face. Oh, how he enjoyed catching the second in command, especially considering there was no way out. Starscream had agreed to the periodical checkups to ensure the health of the sparkling—another sore subject that often inspired tiffs between the seeker and his emotional consort.

“Hiding again, hmm? Come, come,” Knock Out beckoned the spy with his clawed pointer digit. “As long as you’re cooperative, it won’t take any longer than it usually does. Unless you’re feeling feisty today, that is.”

Soundwave ejected a puff of air from his vents, and hunched his shoulder plates, pushing the prominent tops forward. The telepath loathed his position where he was obliged to listen to the persnickety medic, submitting to his ludicrous demands for frequent visits to the medical bay when the spy was obviously faring well. He was fine! He didn’t fancy being coddled, or indulged, but the medic _insisted_ that his systems be regularly tracked, making sure his firewalls and virus blocks stood strong. It was something about the vulnerability posed by the fixation of the systems on the developing sparkling, sapping from the carrier’s frame immunities and other vital establishments, and etcetera. Soundwave never took interest in the medical field, but nonetheless, the health of the sparkling reigned supreme. If it HAD to be done in order to monitor the development of his bitlet, he would stick it out and deal with the discomfort of the medic’s hands roving his frame, as well being stuck and prodded with cold tools in objectionable areas.

Soundwave walked with a purpose, passing Knock Out, and didn’t offer a glance, even as the Aston Martin fell right into step with him. The shorter mech was satisfied, his EM field projecting heady confidence, and a twinge of authority.

“It pains me, Soundwave—I feel like you go out of your way to avoid me these solar cycles,” Knock Out said, a palm pressed up against his crimson chassis in mock hurt. It didn’t really surprise the medic as the spy ceased to respond. It was a game that was played often, and Knock Out rarely incited a worthwhile reaction from the stoic assassin. Soundwave’s EM field would fluctuate, but he remained silent. “I wouldn’t doubt that you hold me in a _esteemed_ light, but finding you is a chore, let me tell you.” Knock Out eyed his silent superior, as if he _actually_ expected a response, and huffed. “Talkative as ever I see,” he grumbled, striding into his workstation.

Soundwave wandered in at his own pace, determined to make Knock Out work for his cooperation. If he had to be here, there might as well provide a challenge for the saucy mech. The spy sauntered up to the familiar medical berth and ran his digits across the surface. Behind his one-way mask he grimaced. He had become well acquainted with this slab, and he had learned to resent it. Heat skittered up his spinal connectors, and through his extremities. Oh, the joys of carrying…his internal temperature seemed to have gone haywire somewhere in the midst of this extensive process. His slender digits trailed their way down the berth, and stopped when they hit a piece of equipment that brought heat searing to Soundwave’s faceplates.

_Stirrups._

The second in command swore that one solar cycle he would come in, and tear the offending protrusions from the berth and throw them far from the vicinity. They were the new bane of his existence, and would continue to be until his progeny made its emergence. He glanced over at the medic and strongly considered “accidentally” knocking on of the stirrups off of the berth…he might have succeeded had the medic not turned around.

“You know the drill, Officer Soundwave. Now let us make this easy for Doctor Knock Out, and place your pedes where they belong. How about that?” The Aston Martin grinned (falsely, that is), and waited. And waited. “It would make me _very_ happy if you would lay back complacently so I can read the extent of the scans before nightfall.”

_Silence._

“Might I say I would be _ecstatic_ at your cooperation? It would blow my processing units if you obliged.” Soundwave didn’t move. “Any klik now.”

Soundwave peered down at the offending pieces of equipment with no small amount of abhorrence, then back up at the medic (whose patience was running clean out).

“Soundwave!”

Said Communications Officer growled lowly, and placed one pede into a stirrup with the tactfulness of a petulant youngling. The equipment didn’t take well, creaking under the rough treatment. Knock Out strapped the pede in, narrowly avoiding the other in its flight through the air straight towards him.

“Hey now— **no kicking**!” The medic pinned his patient with a glare fit to kill, and clicked his glossa. “Naughty today, aren’t we? What’s got your wires in a twist officer? You don’t possibly despise me this much for requiring you here.”

Soundwave huffed, and turned his helm the other way.

“It’s nothing more than a ritual scan, officer—you will thank me when your heir arrives in optimal health.”

Another huff followed, accompanied by a series of irritated clicks. “Soundwave is perfectly capable.”

Knock Out rubbed gel onto the wand in his servo, and quirked an optic ridge. Ever sensitive during this very emotional journey, the spy was difficult to deal with at best. He now understood the excerpts that depicted carriers as mechs with temperaments to be reckoned with. He came to sit on a stool between the telepath’s spread thighs.

“I never thought you incapable, officer. If any mech should carry aboard this ship it should be you.” Soundwave tensed as the medic carefully lathered gel over his nether regions. Knock Out paused, remembering to take it slow. Soundwave was prone to lashing out, as he had learned. It was better to allow him full control. “All good?”

Soundwave grunted an affirmative. Learning the spy’s nonverbal lingo had been a trying experience for the medic, but eventually he had caught on. Knock Out used ample lubricant, making sure the medical device in his servos would cause no unnecessary friction. The spy’s plating flared slightly, releasing heat from his protoform. At this point in the carrying cycle, Soundwave was prone to hot flashes, and drastic mood alterations (as well as increased libido). The doctor was professional as one could be as he ran his fingers over the gradually swelling flesh of his patient’s valve, pressing one sharp digit in to test the consistency of the inner lining. The passage clenched over his digit (as it should), and he flexed the digit, searching for any abnormalities that could impede the emergence of the sparkling. Soundwave’s vents hitched.

“Too much, officer?” Knock Out inquired, the spy’s comfort his first priority.

“Negative—proceed.” Came the slightly strained reply. Soundwave did not like pity, so Knock Out would refrain from asking again, even if his coding pressed him to do so. It was a completely normal reaction for arousal to kick in during an exam like this, and even more so for a sparkling laden mech to experience such sensations. The medic stroked the inside of the glistening canal before widening two digits, as he slipped the head of the tool into the quivering valve passage. The telepath’s frame tensed up, and lubricants flooded out over his palm as he retracted his digits. Soundwave’s vocalizer spat static as he overloaded embarrassingly hard over Knock Out’s servo, and he attempted to bite back the whimper that threatened to escape. It did not phase the medic. He was used to the levels of sensitivity exhibited by his superior officer by now.

“Alright, as far as I can tell, everything is in good shape. We are going to check up on the bitlet now.” Knock Out explained as he had done several times previous. The Aston Martin held the probing tool sturdily, pushing it past the swollen valve lips, and focused on each inch that the wand penetrated. It was an art, using this device, as it required a steady servo, and full concentration. Soundwave’s thighs trembled. His fans sputtered to life, as suppressing them was no longer an option. The telepath mused, imagining his favorite seeker’s spike in place of the tool. “You are doing great, by the way. Okay, we are at the necessary depth…” Knock Out observed as he glanced over at the datapad connected to the device buried to the hilt in the Communications Officer. “Oh, _Soundwave_ you wouldn’t believe…”

The telepath chirruped quizzically, all at once focused on Knock Out. “Sparkling: okay?”

“Of course! My apologies, my own intrigue got the best of me. It’s just when I was studying the images…the little one’s got _nubs_.”

Soundwave chirred, seeming to come to life in comparison to earlier, shedding his irritated demeanor in exchange for this excitable façade. “Seekerling?”

Knock Out chuckled lightly, not used to the anticipation in the telepath’s EM field searching at his own for validation. “So it seems…I can’t say for sure yet what physical qualities the sparkling with sport at emergence, but that would be my educated guess, looking at the scans now. It’s healthy, and developing only slightly slower than the charts say it should.”

“Can this be remedied: before emergence?” Soundwave questioned. Knock Out adjusted the rod within the telepath’s valve, and the supine mech sighed. He had no qualms about suppressing his noise now. He wanted answers.

“It is only a statistic. The sparkling is coming along wonderfully, officer. Trust me, if there was a problem, I would not hesitate to address it.” Knock Out began to withdraw the tool, and Soundwave shuddered.

“Unbind pedes: doctor?”

Knock Out promptly loosened the straps, and the spy slipped his pedes free. The wand slipped from his swollen valve, clanking onto the surface of the medical berth in the puddle of lubricants. Soundwave sat up, a lewd picture if there was ever one, armor flared, and interface components bared to the cool air of the medical bay. His abdomen was large enough so that it nearly shielded the view of his lubricant stained valve, which remained uncovered (by choice). The anterior node was twice its normal size, and the lips were plump with arousal. Knock Out wiped his servos on a towel close to the berth, looking away for the sake of professionalism. It wasn’t a lie, he appreciated good looking mechs. This mech was taken though—as taken as they came. He would never get between Starscream, and his partner.

“You are free to go Officer—” the Aston Martin turned, only to come face-to-chassis with his taller patient. He blinked in confusion, and looked up. “…Soundwave?”

“Yes: Knock Out?”

“You can go…I was you wanted to leave. Do you need anything else?” The medic rambled, as the spy pressed closer, gradually; questioningly. He was testing the waters. “Soundwave. I think you should go.”

The telepath purred. Starscream was in a slagging joke of a ‘Peace Talk’ with the Autobot Prime, and that left him with two options—finger away the charge that consumed his insides like a wildfire (which didn’t work; his systems knew the difference apparently), or find a substitute. A _willing_ substitute, that is.

“Knock Out: is going to leave Soundwave with no reprieve: for megacycles on end? Starscream: is _busy_.” Soundwave pointed out, armor flaring further. “Sweltering hot. Help Soundwave?” The telepath pried, hoping to find a twinge of lust in the medic’s field. When his charge rose this high it bordered on painful. _Please_?

“No—” Knock Out’s red irises searched the masked face. This was against his moral code. He wouldn’t use a patient. “Soundwave, I can’t.”

“Starscream: occupied! Knock Out…permission is granted. Want Knock Out: to help. _Want it_.” And he did. The spy felt the burn in his valve increase, and he reached for the medic’s servo. The doctor retracted it as their servos lightly brushed.

“Soundwave, the carrying cycle is clearly affecting your CPU...”

The assassin mech stiffened, and growled. The menacing sound filtered off into a pinched whine. Knock Out furrowed his brow. _Was his superior throwing a fit?_ Soundwave resumed a seat on the medical berth after pushing the stirrups out of the way. Muttering under his breath, the spy then grabbed the device that had brought him to this flustered state in the first place, and positioned it so that it was aimed to enter his ready valve at just the right angle—

“Soundwave! **Stop**!” Instantly, the telepath was left with empty servos, and an emptier valve as it clamped down on absolutely nothing. Soundwave postured, bristling with rage now that his only source of relief had been stolen from him. The juncture between his thighs was drooling lubricants, and itching for something to fill its pitiably hollow state.

“Give back!” The gravid mech pouted.

“Not a chance, you are going to damage yourself! This tool is to be used with care—you could easily tear something if you’re not careful.” The medic looked at the spy exasperatedly. Carrying Soundwave needed a permanent caretaker—who knew the stoic mech was so impulsive under these circumstances?

“Soundwave: can’t sate it otherwise. Don’t have Starscream…need _something _.” There was a hint of desperation in the telepath’s vocals. Knock Out sighed.__

“ _I_ will do it.” He said seriously.

The spy tilted his helm. “Soundwave can—”

“And Knock Out can, and will do it the _right_ way. Do you want help, or not?”

Soundwave huffed. There was the ‘yes’.

“Okay, now that we have settled that,” Soundwave gasped as the rod slid back into him undeterred, and was hilted once more with ease. He trilled, panting, attempting to move his hips forward to envelop more of the wand. Knock Out chided him.

“Now, now.” The medic pinched the swollen outer node, causing the valve to clench, and the assassin to squeal. It got the spy’s attention immediately. _That was not sexy as frag…not at all._ “I don’t want to hurt you. Lean back a little.”

Soundwave obliged without question, taking the medic’s crimson shoulder’s in his servos to steady himself as the medic moved forward to rest between his thighs. Knock Out wanted this to be as platonic as possible (considering repercussions of such a fling would be detrimental to all involved), as well as the fact that this could be incredibly intimate, if given the right circumstances. Even in this state, Soundwave’s frame thrummed with power, speaking of untold restraint. He was a furnace; the medic was enveloped by heat as he moved the wand in, and out of his superior’s valve slowly at first. That was until Soundwave began groaning, attempting to force more of the tool into himself. Knock Out kept a tight hold on his own restraint. His spike pressed painfully against the inside of his panel, seeking release that he couldn’t grant no matter how much it pleased him to consider.

“ _More_.” Soundwave ordered, and the doctor did not hesitate to comply. He was doing this for his patient’s comfort after all—how could he have denied a carrying mech (who was also his superior officer, not to mention)? “Harder. F-fahhh… _faster_.”

Soundwave called the shots. The medic didn’t ask questions. He massaged the puffy outer node, squeezing the lips of the valve, and plowing the tool in, and out in quick succession. He was well aware of how vocal the telepath could be from prior experience. Walking the halls of the Nemesis meant catching bits, and pieces of the commotion behind closed doors (especially from his leader’s suite). Soundwave writhed, grinding, and panting atop of the medical berth. He was so close…he just needed a bit more…

Knock Out knew when he struck the cluster of ceiling nodes, because not only did Soundwave’s frame tense up, his valve did too. The spy threw his helm back, and shrieked. The medic was happy to have given relief to the telepath, but as the mech came down from the high of overload, he noted not one, but two issues. He was painfully aroused for one, and for two, there was no way to get the scanning wand out (considering the valve passage had clamped down mercilessly, offering no leeway whatsoever).

Knock Out sighed, and took a seat on the stool. This was going to be a while.

~

Soundwave groaned, covering his already concealed face. Again. He had let the burn in his valve direct his actions _again_. What was he, a pleasure mech? He was better than this (or so he had thought). The medic had instructed him to stay, and he had obeyed, the wand lodged deep within his valve. Leaving would mean walking the halls looking like a fool, and in reality, he wasn’t _that_ insistent on leaving. His guilt was not personal, the spy was certain, although it did extend to his particularly generous medic.

Said mech walked back into the medical bay, plating clean as ever, and servos sanitized to match. The telepath’s face turned hot, and he looked down, and away. He had technically _used_ the medic (as he had done not so long ago with a certain eradicon soldier). He cleared his vocalizer.

“Soundwave: apologizes for behavior. Never considered: Knock Out’s thoughts on lending assistance. Was wrong of Soundwave: to assume.” There really was no way to pull himself together at this point, as his valve still contracted like a vice over the medical device. Soundwave debated crossing his thighs, but then reconsidered as the position was awkward with his distended abdomen, and full valve.

“There is no need. You are my patient. It is my duty to see that your needs are fulfilled. Regardless, I do appreciate the thoughtfulness.” Knock Out smiled lightly.

Soundwave felt relief flush through his systems, although there was something on his processor that he couldn’t seem to shake so easily. He spilled the information quickly, and bluntly, as though tearing off a bandage, and tried as he could to dispel the uncertainty in his field. The medic hid his amusement well as Soundwave explained the tryst he had with an eradicon that had been under his care not so long ago. That would explain the soldier’s panic after he had slipped, giving away information on Soundwave’s absence he shouldn’t have known. Knock Out only nodded his helm, and soothed away the carrying mechs worries.

“No amount of shame should come from it, Soundwave. Carriers are often not completely in tune with their needy frames, especially when nearing the ends of their cycles. It is okay to experience lust, and in fact, it is completely natural.”

“But Soundwave does not agree with these: primal urges…if Starscream discovered...” the spy pressed a servo to his helm in exasperation.

“Lord Starscream would _understand_. You did not share sparks with the soldier, it was only to relieve symptoms of carrying. That is not an excuse to find a slew of others, but it does not originate in your dissatisfaction with Starscream, as is obvious.” Knock Out took a seat in front of the telepath, and tugged lightly at the scanner. He could move it now.

“Never dissatisfied: with Starscream! Starscream…is increasingly understanding, yes…” Soundwave thought, feeling worse at the seeker’s patience with him through all of this.

“It was a physical need, being that you are a carrier. It is your first time as such, and we are all learning here. I’m relying on texts from stellar cycles in the past, for frag’s sake! I mean, look,” Knock Out explained as he slowly, oh so carefully began extracting the device from between Soundwave’s thighs, “I know you don’t like to depend on mechs around here, but sometimes it’s a necessary measure. The next time you feel it coming on, comm me, and I can help you take care of it.”

Soundwave nodded, sighing as the device slipped free. Fluids pooled onto the surface of the berth, which Knock Out mopped up with a nearby towel. After that, there was a comfortable silence. The medic cleaned the scanner, and packed it away, taking note that the Communications Officer still sat on the medical berth. _What is on his CPU now?_

Knock Out strutted over, and offered his patient a dampened cloth. “Would it make you feel better if I assured the condition of the previously mentioned eradicon, officer?”

Soundwave’s response was an enthusiastic nod.


End file.
